


What's in a Name?

by Hazel75



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Skye working in Coulson's office, Unresolved Romantic Tension, actually it's really embarrassing, fluff with a touch of angst, it's kind of embarrassing really, name origins, these are things I research in my spare time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/pseuds/Hazel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet about the origins of Coulson's name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



> Inspired by a lovely gifset from the folks at fuckyeahskoulson of Coulson looking at Skye. Thank you for all the lovely things you give this fandom.
> 
> Title from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

“Well, this is interesting.” Skye is curled up in a chair in Coulson’s office, where she is supposed to be researching potential ops, opportunities for proactive strikes against Hydra. She’s been doing it for all morning and every time she identifies a possibility, the complexities seem to become endless considering the limited manpower at their disposal. It’s been a little like navigating a maze only to keep hitting dead end after dead end.

 

“You’ve identified a possible next target, Skye?” Coulson looks up from the budget report he’s been studying, looking as though he welcomes a respite from paperwork.

 

She half smiles, half grimaces. “Not exactly. I was taking a little break. Just a short one.”

 

“So what’s so interesting, then? Please let it be something good.”

 

Skye colors, a teensy bit embarrassed. “Have you ever looked up the origin of your name?”

 

“Like, where the name Coulson comes from?” He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I always assumed it was an Anglicization of Son of Coul or something equally interesting.”

 

“Well, yeah, it is. Kind of. According to this site, it’s Irish, and in its earliest form it was either Coole or McCool, so a patrynomic form of Coole. Which would make you the son of Coole. Hmph.” She smirks at him, very satisfied with herself. “I knew when I met you, you were cool. It’s even part of your name.”

 

He gives her an appraising look and returns her smirk with one of his own. “Huh. And I was correct in recognizing how insightful you were.”

 

And this is something she’s always enjoyed: the back and forth, the mild flirting.

 

“One thing I was wrong about, I guess. You didn’t need a cool nickname since cool was already your name.”

 

His eyes go a little soft at that, and his smile grows. “I liked it, though, A.C.”

 

She looks away from him, back at her laptop, pretty sure that she has the same, sincere and melting look on her face that he has on his, and she finds that a little scary. Which is silly and more than a little weird because this has been how they always are. But, lately, she’s been wondering and the wondering has her a little unbalanced.

 

“Wow. Listen to this. The Coulson family motto is _Je mourrai pour ceux que j’aime_ or ‘I would die for those I love’.” And with that, Skye feels like this went from a quirky discussion about the origin of his surname to something much more serious because that feels way too on point and way too personal.

 

When she finally looks up, she's afraid she’s already taken too long for it not to be awkward; he’s not smiling anymore. Instead, his eyes move over her face and he looks a little bit shaken and a little bit helpless as he clenches his jaw and swallows.

 

“Yeah, Skye,” he says, pressing his lips together and swallowing again, “I think they may have gotten that right.”

 

She feels her stomach flip and looks him directly in the eyes, replying “Me, too,” unsure what she’s trying to convey with those two words: that she agrees with the motto or that she’d die for him, too, although she’s pretty sure both are true.

 

After another long moment, he smiles, and it’s the one that seems to say he understands everything going on in her head, that words aren’t necessary. He stands, walking over to where she sits.

 

“I’d like a change in scenery. What do you say we go for a walk and get some fresh air?” He tilts his head in the direction of the outdoors. Setting her laptop aside, she gets to her feet and takes his hand in hers.

 

“I think I’d like that.”

 

With that, they walk out together, his hand still in hers.


End file.
